


I've been thinkin' 'bout you and rebuildin’ (you in love with me still?)

by Talls



Series: maybe you’ll be coming over again [2]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron's kid, Betsy is Andrew's mom now I make the rules, Exes, Family Bonding, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Healthy Relationships, M/M, Mutual Pining, True Love, Wholesome Twinyards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-24 21:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22024951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Talls/pseuds/Talls
Summary: In an attempt to save what remains of his mental health, Andrew breaks things off with Neil and travels the world in search of answers, only to find them waiting for him when he gets back home.Or, Andrew Minyard gets his groove back.
Relationships: Aaron Minyard & Andrew Minyard, Betsy Dobson & Andrew Minyard, Katelyn/Aaron Minyard, Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick & Andrew Minyard, Nicky Hemmick/Erik Klose
Series: maybe you’ll be coming over again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1463488
Comments: 116
Kudos: 600





	I've been thinkin' 'bout you and rebuildin’ (you in love with me still?)

**Author's Note:**

> This fic happened because I tried to do something unresolved and then was incapable of leaving it like that, because they're in love!! They're in love and they deserve a happy ending!
> 
> Big thanks to Floura_aarion_lokkii for betaing this, and as always thanks to Lexie and Ruby for reading over it, cheering me on and not letting me quit writing. I love you Dearly!!
> 
> without further ado, please enjoy the story!

“Kevin says you're still in love with me.” Andrew blinks. The voice is hushed, the first either of them has spoken in a few minutes. The sweat is still cooling on Andrew’s chest. Neil is stretched out on the bed next to him, completely bare on top of the sheets. Andrew is covered to the chest. 

“Kevin gets involved in things he shouldn’t,” Andrew finally offers in response. They hadn’t fucked this time. Neil had sucked Andrew off and Andrew had jerked him off in response, mouthing at his neck until he came, biting Andrew’s name into his ear. Usually, Neil is gone by now, but this time he just rolled over to the other side of the bed, ‘his’ side of the bed back when they slept together regularly. 

“Not about us. Not unless it’s important.” Neil’s voice is insistent, losing its quiet tone. Andrew spends most of his life thinking about what it would be like if Neil was still around, but this, his terrier-like inability to just drop it, this he doesn’t miss. 

“He’s probably worried about me,” Andrew says vaguely. Neil’s going to win this, the unstoppable force to Andrew’s movable object, but Andrew can make Neil work for it. 

“Why would he worry about you?” Neil asks, sitting up a little bit in the bed. Andrew sits up too. He can see Neil’s dick right now. This whole night sucks. He presses the heels of his hands into his eye sockets, rubs until his vision is starry.

“Because he thinks this arrangement we have where you come to town, fuck me, and then leave is bad for my mental and emotional wellbeing,” Andrew says, resigning himself to what follows. He gets out of bed, dick out and all, and grabs his boxers, pulling them back on. He looks back at Neil, who looks vaguely hunted. 

“Why does he think that?” Neil asks, fatalistically. Andrew pulls on some sweatpants. 

“Because I’m still in love with you,” Andrew says, tugging on a t-shirt from one of his drawers. It has Oscar the Grouch printed on it, a gift from Aaron’s spawn last Christmas. Andrew likes it a disproportionate amount. He finally turns to look at Neil again, still naked on the bed, bewildered to say the least. 

“Oh,” Neil eventually says. 

“Yeah,” Andrew agrees. Andrew doesn’t know why he got dressed. This is somehow worse than when he was naked. He wishes Neil would put on some clothes. He’s never wished that before in his life. 

Andrew abruptly realizes he’s in the middle of a post-traumatic episode. He hasn’t had an episode like this in so long, he almost doesn’t know what to do. He steps backwards against the dresser, holds the lip of it with white-knuckled fists. Neil gets up immediately, his instincts still sharp when it comes to Andrew, even this far out of a relationship, grabbing his clothes and walking out of the room, closing the door quietly behind him. 

Andrew turns from the bed, the rumpled sheets suddenly unbearable to think about. There’s a small mirror above the dresser, and he stares into his own reflection. _There’s nobody in the room with me_. He focuses on the fuzzy green Muppet on his shirt, frowning head popping out of a garbage can. He thinks about Aaron’s kid, a tiny blonde charmer who has never known anything but love. He thinks about Renee’s last visit, the last time Bee called, the meaningless memes Nicky texts. 

It takes fifteen minutes for Andrew to calm down. He expects Neil to have left by now, but it isn’t a surprise when he leaves the room and sees Neil, still partially undressed, waiting for him on the couch. 

“You haven’t had episodes like that for a very long time,” Neil says. It’s not a question. “And you haven’t had them around me for longer.” 

“What’s your point?” Andrew asks, but he doesn’t sound as angry as he intends, sounds tired instead. He doesn’t remember the last time he was this tired. Maybe the year before Neil left for good, back when they were trying to make it in different cities with no end goal in sight.

“I should have known. I usually know,” Neil says, mostly to himself. 

“It’s not like I’ve been in your pocket recently,” Andrew says. 

“Kevin was right when he said I was hurting you,” Neil says. 

“Neil, don’t fuck me if you don’t want to, but spare me the condescension about my mental health.” 

“Andrew,” Neil says, his voice inconceivably gentle, “we’re not gonna do this again. We shouldn’t have been doing this in the first place.” 

“This was your idea,” Andrew snaps, because it was, it was Neil’s idea to approach him at that party, and it was Neil’s idea to kiss him, and it was Neil’s idea to whisper _let’s get out of here_. “But you’re right, it was a shitty one. Get out of my apartment,” Andrew says, making his way into his room and slamming the door behind him. He feels like a child, like a teenager, so fucking angry for some reason. He clawed his way through his trauma into being an adult, and now it feels like he’s twenty again, and his heart is rupturing over and over. 

He hears his apartment door open. He waits. He hears his apartment door shut. 

At some point he goes and locks the door. 

And that’s that. 

*

Andrew continues to show up for games and practices, and even does very well in both. He starts eating more, because the team physician pulls him aside and tells him he’s losing weight dangerously fast, and should adhere to the diet she provided, instead of pulling some bullshit Internet cleanse. 

They barely miss the cut-off for playoffs, through no fault of anyone on the team. The season ends, and Andrew flies to Stuttgart to visit Nicky. Erik takes one long look at him when they grab him from the airport, and every single time Nicky tries to mention Andrew’s love life, Erik steers the conversation towards something else. 

The last night of the week-long visit, Nicky pulls Andrew onto the front porch, after Erik goes to bed. There’s an old swing out there, and they both sit on it gingerly, willing it not to break. “Andrew, for a very long time, I didn’t notice what was going on with you, but I can tell something’s up now. If you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to talk about it, but you’re my blood and I’m not gonna stop worrying about it, no matter how stoic you act.” 

Andrew stays silent for a very long time. Years ago, Nicky would have given up, put the silence down to Andrew being recalcitrant, but now he just sits and waits. Neil taught him that over the years. 

“I’m trying to give up smoking,” Andrew finally says. Nicky narrows his eyes. “It’s a habit I picked up when I was younger when I needed something to cope, and now it’s the thing that’s killing me. So I’m trying to give up smoking. But it’s significantly harder than I ever imagined.” 

“It was important for me to never need anything. That way, if it was taken from me, I would be fine. Now I’m grappling with the fact that I trained myself to need this. And even though it’s actively hurting me, I still want it.” 

“I’m glad you’re giving up smoking. It’s always been bad for you,” Nicky finally says after a few minutes of silence. “Neil isn’t a cigarette though. I know things with you and him have been a shitshow for a very long time, but if you were going to get over each other, you would have by now.”

“We were hooking up when he was in town, it was casual for him,” Andrew says, because it’s not like their relationship was epic or mythical. They couldn’t survive an apocalypse, they couldn’t even survive five hours of distance. 

“Neil Josten has never done anything casually in his life. Especially not when it comes to you.” 

“I told him I was still in love with him,” Andrew says, and Nicky is shocked silent. “And he left. I think the relationship is well and truly over by now.” 

“Shit,” Nicky whispers. Andrew nods. “He’s an idiot then. Fuck him.” 

“You like him more than I do,” Andrew says, a pale facsimile of a joke. 

“And I still do love the tiny bastard, but he’s an idiot if he didn’t say it back, and he’s an idiot for leaving in the first place. You were the best thing that happened to him, and he should know that by now.” 

“It’s fine, Nicky, you don’t have to do this,” Andrew says. 

“Don’t roleplay him, this is not fine. And it won’t be fine for a while, but until it’s fine, I’m here for you, and so is Aaron, and so is Betsy, and we’re going to handle it together. As a family.” Andrew’s eyes start stinging. It’s probably the wind. 

After coming back from Germany, he flies to Chicago O’Hare to spend a few days with his errant doppelganger. The spawn makes an impassioned plea to stay up way past her bedtime to see her Dadrew, and the whoop she lets out when she sees Andrew coming through the gates almost makes Andrew forget how godawful the flight had been. 

Katelyn made Andrew’s favorite double fudge brownies in preparation for his visit, and they snack on them while Andrew holds the almost-comatose spawn in his lap, and they all talk about politics and pop culture and the stupid jackasses the couple goes to school with. 

Later, when Katelyn and Audrey head to bed, Aaron sits next to Andrew and pours them both some whiskey. 

“I never liked him,” Aaron finally says, after about five minutes of silence. 

“The anticipation of your ‘I told you so’ is the only thing that’s kept me going thus far,” Andrew says, before taking a generous swallow of the liquor. He winces and shakes his head at the taste. It’s been a long time since he’s let himself sit down with a bottle.

“It’s not even true. I liked him after a few years. He grew on me the way Katie grew on you.” 

“He bribed you with baked goods?” 

“No, he made you happy. I had never seen you happy, I thought you had a terminal disease or something.” 

“We don’t have to talk about this anymore,” Andrew says, very tired. Neil _had_ made him happy, and continued to make him happy for years until one day he stopped. Until Andrew told him to leave if he wanted to, and Neil left. And then Andrew was decidedly unhappy, until that became his baseline again. 

“He was supposed to be your happy ending. The way Katelyn was for me,” Aaron grouses, taking a sip of his whiskey. 

“That spawn of yours proves that things are just beginning,” Andrew says. 

“That’s fair. Audrey’s the best. She’s perfect,” Aaron says. “We didn’t see her coming, but now that she’s here, I can’t imagine a world without her. ” Andrew stays silent as both of them consider their own biological spawner, and how callously cruel and indifferent she had been to them both until her fiery end at Andrew’s hands. 

“Between the two of us, I wasn’t the one who was supposed to have a future,” Andrew finally says. Aaron makes a small wounded noise. “No, you were a promising kid in a bad place. I was ‘destructive and joyless’. I had an assault charge on my record halfway through puberty, and then I got four more right after I finished.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Aaron interjects. 

“Let me finish. I had my happy ending, it just didn’t stick. The fact that I got any kind of happiness at any point was more than I ever expected. I’m alive, and that’s enough. You can have the future for both of us.” 

Aaron contemplates his whiskey. Andrew doesn’t contemplate anything. He’s tired of thinking. 

“I haven’t heard you this bad in a long time,” Aaron finally says. “Everything you just said was bullshit, but that’s not the point. He really did a number on you, didn’t he?” 

“We really don’t need to talk about it.” 

“Okay. But stay longer than two days. Audrey misses her Dadrew, and it’ll be nice to have you around for longer.” 

“I’m sure Katelyn would love the imposition on her home,” Andrew says dryly. 

“She’s the one who suggested it. You’re good with Audrey, and you can cook. It’s like having a servant who’s also helping pay our tuition.” 

“Fine, but only so when I inevitably steal the spawn from you and raise her for my own, you won’t be able to say I didn’t compensate you fairly.” 

“She’s in the middle of her terrible twos right now, we’d pay you to take her,” Aaron responds, and, in a move so rare and horrifying that they’ve only tried it twice, he reaches his arm around Andrew’s shoulder and hugs him. 

Andrew, though he would never mention it to anyone else, hugs back. 

*

He flies back to Houston-IAH a week later, spoiled with good food and company. The spawn is growing almost too fast for Andrew to keep up, and just being around her makes Andrew feel better, more worthy. She’s so small, and so pure, and she trusts him so much. He’s never felt this way before about anyone else. 

The flight back home is terrible, as all flights are, but he flies first class like the class traitor he’s become and wears the noise-canceling headphones Neil got him for his 23rd birthday, and doesn’t even once consider jumping out of the emergency exit. 

He Ubers back to his house from the airport, completely drained and absolutely starving, desperate to crawl into his own bed. When he gets out of the elevator, Neil is waiting in front of his apartment, fist raised like he’s about to rap on the door. His other hand is holding a few plastic bags full of what appear to be groceries. 

“Hi,” Neil says. There’s a long pause. 

“Neil,” Andrew responds, surprising himself with how even his voice is. 

“Hi,” Neil says again. 

“You said that already,” Andrew points out, and this time the exhaustion filters through. 

“Long flight?” Neil asks. 

“What, are you stalking me now?” Andrew asks, finally pushing through his shock and unlocking the door. Neil moves out of the way, but not far enough that Andrew can’t feel his body heat, like a siren song. Andrew adamantly does not think about leaning on Neil’s shoulder, pressing his face to his neck, breathing him deep. 

“I don’t need to stalk you to know when you’ve been flying, Andrew, nothing else makes you that particular shade of green,” Neil says. Andrew almost feels embarrassed for how shitty he must look, but then Neil’s cautious hands are helping him shrug out of his jacket and he forgets to care. 

“I notice you didn't deny stalking me,” Andrew says, in lieu of trying to figure out what Neil is doing in his apartment. Neil’s only response is a quick wink and a startlingly genuine smile. 

“Go shower, I’ll make you dinner,” Neil says, heading into the kitchen. Andrew considers resisting, or even just asking questions. “Or did you want to make your own dinner tonight?” 

He doesn’t want to make his own dinner tonight. He never wants to make his own dinner, and Neil one hundred percent knows that. He’s definitely having a stroke or something but he’ll roll with this for as long as it takes. 

The shower feels incredible on his skin, almost too hot to handle, and the grime and recycled air of the plane sluices off his body, leaving him pink and clean. After, he looks into the mirror for a long few minutes. There are dark bags under his eyes but he’s putting weight back on, thanks to all the food Erik forced on him and all the cooking he did at Aaron’s place. He looks tired, looks his age. 

Andrew doesn’t know how he got this old without noticing. He’s still young, but he has more years under his belt than he knows what to do with. 

He gets changed into his softest sweatpants and a shirt that in retrospect he definitely stole from Neil back in junior year. He almost doesn’t wear it, but it’s soft and worn out in the best way, and it’s not like Neil will remember. His stomach growls throughout the process, probably a result of the absolutely delectable smell in his apartment. Neil always was the better cook between them. 

Andrew walks into the kitchen area right as Neil is dishing out the buttery pasta into bowls. Neil looks up and smiles widely. 

“Hey, I made pasta and I brought that vodka sauce you like. We also have grated mozzarella and parmesan, just let me know how much you want,” Neil recites before narrowing his eyes at Andrew and getting a good look at him. A slow satisfied smile spreads across his face when he takes in Andrew’s outfit. “Nice shirt. I think I used to have one just like it.” 

“What a coincidence,” Andrew says before grabbing his bowl and all of the cheese and making his way to the table. “Why are you here again?” 

“I need to ask a favor,” Neil says, grabbing his own bowl and making his way over. He drops a fork in Andrew’s bowl, just as Andrew starts reaching around for it, and then sits down in the chair to Andrew’s right. 

“And what favor would that be?” Andrew says, before taking a bite. He has to grit his teeth and close his eyes to avoid moaning. It’s very good food. It’s possibly the best home-cooked meal he’s had in years. 

“I need a place to stay tonight. I forgot to book a hotel when I came over, and now it’s way too late,” Neil says, before biting into a huge forkful of pasta and wincing at how hot it is on his tongue. 

“And you thought of my place immediately?” Andrew asks. Neil shrugs sheepishly taking another big bite and wincing yet again. 

“You offered me your guest room before, I thought I might as well try and bribe you with good food for it. If it comes down to it, I’ll just get a motel room,” Neil says. He almost takes another bite but Andrew grabs his wrist.

“Blow,” Andrew commands, and Neil does, cooling down the forkful of pasta before eating it. He doesn’t wince this time. “You’re not getting a motel room,” Andrew says, dropping Neil’s wrist and looking down at his own food. Andrew almost can’t believe he did that, a result of too much time spent with Aaron’s spawn.

“Is that because you’re killing me for my audacity, or is it because you’re gonna let me stay the night?” Neil asks. 

“Both,” Andrew says.

They polish off their food and go back for seconds and thirds before quitting. They talk a little bit, but Andrew is too tired to hold a conversation, and Neil seems to know that. Andrew feels like he’s in a fever dream. After their break-up, Neil became increasingly difficult to read, like the open book Andrew had loved so well was being encrypted. For whatever reason, he’s decrypted again, showing Andrew everything he learned to hide. 

“You’re tired, you should go to bed,” Neil says. Andrew pries one eye open. “You’re exhausted. I’ll do the dishes, I owe you for springing this on you either way.” 

Andrew considers arguing, but this has been the strangest day of his life and he’s very tired. 

“Goodnight, Neil,” Andrew says, grimacing at how hoarse his voice is. 

“Goodnight, Andrew,” Neil says, voice very low. They look at each other for a long moment. Neil looks tired too, but there’s something else there, something soft in the look in his eyes, something tight in his shoulders. 

“Will you be gone before I wake up?” Andrew asks, his tongue running rogue. 

“Probably. I have an early flight,” Neil says regretfully. “I’ll make breakfast though, if that’ll wake you up.” 

“We’ll see,” Andrew says, and makes his way to his room. He wants to listen to see when Neil goes to bed, but sleep takes him almost as soon as he lies down. 

The next morning, Neil is gone, but there is a neat stack of chocolate chip pancakes in the fridge.

*

Neil shows up the next weekend, and then three days after that and so on. He’s busy with a project in Houston, one he doesn’t discuss but takes up a lot of his time. He usually stays for around two days, arriving sometime in the evening, staying one day, and leaving the morning after. 

Andrew resigns himself to being basically a B&B, but Neil spends all of his free time with Andrew, catching up on almost five years of separation. It seems like Neil has decided to go all-in on the friends part of their old friends with benefits arrangement, and Andrew doesn’t hate it as much as he anticipates. 

It’s terrifying, to find himself the center of Neil’s focus again. Neil doesn’t touch Andrew, makes a point to keep all of their interactions as friendly and platonic as possible, but Andrew feels the weight of his gaze like a physical sensation, one he’s been starved of for longer than he cares to consider. Andrew had been addicted to Neil’s regard for so long, and the impending doom of relapse tinges each focused conversation with Neil with a sort of ache.

Neil cooks for Andrew when he’s there, but Andrew pays for the meals they go out to eat, specialty pho from hole-in-the-wall restaurants, chilaquiles from boisterous Tex-Mex establishments that give kids balls of dough to play with, biriyani loaded with so much saffron that the grains of rice are bright red. They talk for hours over dinner, the way they used to in college when every day was just another opportunity to know each other in a different way. 

In some ways, their burgeoning friendship is more painful than the casual sex was. At least then, Andrew knew there was nowhere to go from there. Now, Andrew has what he was missing, and it’s too close to how it used to be to do anything other than tear open old wounds. His heart beats in double time these days, as if it is also making up for lost time.

Andrew doesn’t give him a key, but he lets him know that he can make himself at home, and Neil smiles a little bit at the opportunity to practice his lockpicking skills. In response, Neil starts giving Andrew notice for when he shows up, but in the worst way possible. 

**Neil:** did u want italian 4 dinner bc i can pick some up, lmk

or

**Neil:** ur out of rice, dw i bought some from an actual indian store instead of sam’s :P

or even, memorably 

**Neil:** kitchen accident, localized bleeding to sink, where’s ur whiskey/first aid? 

Against all odds, all instincts, all reason, Andrew begins to hope again. Neil is many things, but he isn’t cruel, not to Andrew. There doesn’t appear to be anyone else in his life, how could there be when he spends all of the spare time he has with Andrew? This has to mean something, how could it not?

With hope comes a whole host of other feelings that he resigned himself to never feeling again. He regains his sense of spite first -- he starts attending the off-season workouts regularly and spends each one choosing one specific striker to shut out of the goal entirely. His coaches think it’s funny, so they let him get away with it, but he gets significantly more dirty looks from strikers and a few more amused or coconspiratorial ones as well from his defensive line. 

He’s been playing for the Houston Sirens for two years now and they seem to like him here. They’re a strong team with even stronger defense, though their offense could use some work, and they don’t badger Andrew with requests for team hang-outs or dinners. It’s a job for him, and the team and the management respect that, expecting only strong performance in practice and games, no more and no less. 

One day, near the end of the off-season, the team manager pulls him into her office. 

“Andrew, I’d like to start by saying how impressed the staff has been with your performance lately. You’ve always been a reliable anchor for the team, but recently you’ve been playing with a drive we haven’t seen before with you. Honestly, it reminds us of your last few years of college. Whatever it is, keep it up. This promises to be an exciting season,” she says. Andrew doesn’t say anything, just stares. She didn’t bring him into her office to levy a few banal compliments. The smile on her face takes on a new, shrewd quality. “But of course, that’s not the only reason we’re speaking.” 

“Who transferred?” Andrew asks. 

“How do you know there’s a transfer?” she asks. 

“Exciting season.” She looks down, shaking her head ruefully. 

“You’re a sharp one Minyard, I’ll give you that. Honestly, I expected you to know who,” she says, and right as she says that, Andrew knows who it is, knows it in his bones, “since he told us he’s been staying with you.” 

“You’re signing Neil Josten.” 

“Yes we are,” she says, studying his face for any reaction. Andrew carefully controls his expression, but internally sirens and fireworks are going off. Neil’s coming to Houston. He’s going to be in Andrew’s city. He’s joining Andrew’s team. “He said it was a surprise, but I didn’t understand how. I guess I underestimated his ability to keep a secret.” 

“He’s good at that,” Andrew says. 

“We value that in a player. We initially had reservations of signing someone so controversial, especially considering his habit of getting into it with reporters, but he assures us that all of his more aggressive behavior was a result of the environment he was in, not any innate character.” Andrew almost snorts at that. “He’s a hell of a striker though, and he has the speed and power that we need on our offensive line. Not to mention, he might just have what it takes for you to stick around.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Andrew asks, tone carefully neutral. 

“Your contract is up for renewal after this season, and I’m going to be honest with you, nobody on the staff thinks you’ll stick around after. You don’t have any ties in the city, you don’t have any friends on the team, you live in an apartment with a lease that expires when your contract does, and you’re bound to have other offers coming in. Now, you’re the best goalkeeper in the league, that much is obvious. We want you to build something with us, but up until now, you’ve been careful not to make any commitments beyond the exact stipulations of your contract. Suddenly, Josten comes to town, tells us he’s staying at your place as we hammer out the contract, and you’re playing with a new fire. Tell me that doesn’t mean something.” 

Andrew doesn’t speak. She’s right, of course. Neil always did light a fire within him, a drive to be more than he is, aim for more than he has. It was one of the most infuriating and intoxicating things about playing on a team with him. 

“Now, the Sirens don’t have a morality clause or any bullshit like that, and you know that, so you know that when I ask this question, I’m asking it for the right reasons. If Josten is on this team next season, after your current contract expires, where will you be?” she asks, eyes intent. 

“At his side,” Andrew says, because he doesn’t lie, especially not about this. A look of triumph spreads across her face, lighting up her eyes. Andrew understands the impulse. Neil is the edge they need to make it to playoffs, maybe even the championships, but they won’t be able to do it without Andrew. Now, she knows they will. 

“Then I think we will have a very exciting season indeed. Don’t tell Josten I told you about this, by the way. He mentioned he wanted to let you know himself.” 

*

Andrew drives around aimlessly for an hour before deciding on his next plan of action. Neil texts, lets him know he’s making dinner, but Andrew doesn’t respond. He calls Bee instead, because if anyone knows what to do it’s her. 

“Andrew?” she answers, voice just a bit hassled. 

“Are you busy?” he asks. 

“Never for you, you know that,” she responds, voice warm and kind, just like always. Andrew pulls into the parking lot and leans back in his seat. 

“Neil’s transferring to the Sirens,” he says. “He’s been staying at my place while he negotiated the contract.” There’s a long pause. 

“Well, that’s interesting,” she says carefully. Andrew starts laughing, and then keeps laughing for a little too long. 

“We haven’t been fucking,” he says, as bald-faced as ever. He never could shock her, but he never grew out of the habit of trying. 

“I didn’t imply you had,” she demurs. 

“I told him I was in love with him, so he stopped having sex with me and instead made me dinner at least once a week and uprooted his entire life to transfer to my city,” Andrew says, just to feel the words in his mouth. They taste impossible. And yet. 

“Well, it seems like you got your response then, didn’t you?” Bee responds, as quick to the point as always. 

“Yeah, I guess I did,” Andrew says. “Never mind about me, how are you, Bee?” 

“Same as ever. The new batch of freshmen are a bit of a hassle, but nothing I can’t handle. Certainly nothing compared to the hassle you were,” she teases. 

“You like the challenge,” he retorts. 

“I really do. And you were worth all of it,” she says, her voice softening. 

“Don’t get all soft on me, I’ll break out in hives,” Andrew says around a smile. 

“I have to go, I have an appointment soon, but did this bring you any clarity?” she asks. He always loved the way she said that. Not any ‘did this make you feel better’ bullshit, but a genuine question about what she could offer him. Clarity. 

“It always does,” he responds truthfully. 

“Glad to hear it. I love you, Andrew,” she says. 

“Love you too, Mom,” he says, and hangs up. He sighs for a long moment. He feels so much lighter than he’s felt in such a long time. He takes a moment to sit in the feeling. Then he gets out of the car. 

*

“There you are,” Neil says when Andrew finally gets home. “I thought you pushed your luck too hard merging on I-10 and perished.” 

“You wish,” Andrew says. He sniffs the air. “Did you make pancakes for dinner?” 

“I have some news, I thought it would be appropriate to have a special dinner,” Neil says, and if Andrew didn’t already know what the news was, he would be immediately suspicious, what with all of the nervous energy Neil is emanating. 

“I have some news too,” Andrew says. Neil looks up. “I’ve been talking to management, and we’ve decided that I’m not the right fit for the team. I’m getting traded to Boston.” 

If Andrew never experiences happiness again, it will all have been worth it, just to see the pure horror in Neil’s face for those seconds. The color drains from his face and everything. Andrew holds off for five perfect beautiful seconds before he lets his smile show. Realization dawns in Neil’s eyes. 

“You son of a bitch,” Neil breathes. He takes a shaky breath. “You fucking bastard, I almost killed myself.” Andrew is already laughing. “You already know, don't you, you smug shithead. How did you know? Who told?” 

“When are you going to learn that I know everything?” Andrew asks, but his shoulders are shaking too hard to be taken seriously. 

“I cannot fucking believe you,” Neil says, but there’s a smile spreading across his face too. “You’re the worst person I’ve ever met.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Andrew says, beckoning Neil closer with his hands, and Neil follows easily, crowding Andrew up against the wall and cupping his face in his hands, pressing kisses all over Andrew’s laughing face. Andrew is shaken by just how much he missed this, how quietly desperate for it he’s been for so long. The sex was fine when it was just sex, and the friendship was perfect for what it was supposed to be, but this, a laughing Neil in his arms, free and open and expressive, this is all he needed, all he wanted. 

“I can’t kiss you when you’re smiling,” Neil complains lightly, so Andrew schools his face and makes a genuine effort to weaken Neil’s stupid knees. Neil, the hypocrite, is also smiling, and he tastes like laughter when Andrew deepens the kiss, tastes like the chocolate chips he must have put into the pancake batter, tastes like Neil. 

“Take me to bed or lose me forever,” Andrew says, and Neil throws his head back and laughs again. 

“God, Andrew,” Neil says, still holding tight to Andrew’s head, like Andrew might disappear if he lets go. Something like fear or awe enters his eyes as he stares down at Andrew, and the smile slowly fades, taken over by something very familiar, something hot and intense. He drops his forehead down to Andrew’s, closes his eyes, and honestly, Andrew understands the impulse, but right now he wants to throw Neil down on something flat and see what happens. 

“I have to do everything, huh?” Andrew says, before bending and scooping Neil up in his arms in an odd bridal carry. Neil squawks in surprise before laughing again, looping his arms around Andrew’s neck. Andrew’s knees protest a bit, but it’s a short walk to Andrew’s bedroom, and it’s worth it to see the delight in Neil’s eyes as he’s carried across the threshold and dumped unceremoniously onto Andrew’s bedspread. 

Andrew follows him down. 

“Wait, hey,” Neil says, breathless. Andrew detaches himself from Neil’s neck, an already impressive bruise blooming where his teeth just were. “Where can I touch you?” Andrew uses the opportunity to sit up and pull his shirt off. Neil’s eyes get stuck on Andrew’s chest in a very gratifying way. 

“Everywhere but my ass,” Andrew says. “You?” 

“Anywhere, everywhere, just touch me,” Neil says, breathless. Andrew smiles wolfishly, before bearing back down on him. Neil’s knees come up to bracket Andrew’s hips and his hands seize on Andrew’s shoulders. Neil’s shirt goes flying at some point after that, not that Andrew really pays that much attention. He’s too busy relearning Neil, the way he hasn’t let himself in their last encounters. He tracks the way age has warped his scars, runs his hands over the muscle he’s built after years of being a professional athlete, bites at that one spot on his neck that still makes him go boneless after all these years. 

Neil seems to have the same idea, his calloused hands lavishing attention on Andrew’s pecs, his thighs, the soft bit of belly he has right above his belt buckle, the dimples on his back right above his ass, but of course, no lower. He tucks two fingers into Andrew’s waistband and pulls once, a silent question. Andrew responds by tugging his pants off entirely, kicking off his shoes and socks on the way. He’s clumsy about it, over eager, and ends up having to pull back entirely to hop out of them. 

“Oh I get it, I make dinner and you're the show, huh?” Neil teases, blatantly ogling all the new skin Andrew has on display. 

“Stop being such a smartass and take off your goddamn pants,” Andrew says, and Neil, usually a contrarian, immediately complies, kicking his pants off with the grace of a newborn giraffe. He lies flat on his back after and winks exaggeratedly. Andrew gets a knee onto the bed, before reaching over to the bedside table and pulling out a condom and lube. 

“Hey,” Neil says, and Andrew looks over to see some new mischief brewing in his eyes. “I haven’t slept with anyone else since we ended things.” Andrew is momentarily surprised and then berates himself for it. Neil never made it a secret that attraction worked differently with him than it did Andrew. He should have known that Neil wouldn’t find anyone else he trusted enough to do this with. 

“Okay,” Andrew says. “What are you getting at?” 

“Are you clean?” Neil asks, and suddenly it is blindingly obvious what Neil is asking for. Andrew swallows heavily, but doesn’t make a move. 

“Yeah,” he says. He got tested recently, as part of his annual check up. 

“I’m just saying, if you’re clean,” Neil says, before breaking off, clearly expecting Andrew to finish the sentence. 

“You have to actually say what you want, if that’s what you want,” Andrew says, half for the sake of clear and enthusiastic consent, and half because he likes making things as difficult for Neil as possible. Neil goes red, but he’s not one to turn down a direct challenge. 

“Fuck me raw,” he says, in what amounts to a one-hit KO to Andrew’s self-control. Andrew drops the condom in the drawer. 

“Twist my arm about it, why don’t you?” Andrew says through the haze of lust that suddenly sweeps over him like a tsunami. 

“Asshole,” Neil says, reaching out to pull Andrew closer. Andrew kisses him hard for a few minutes, using his thigh to grind down on Neil’s dick enough to make him squirm. He breaks the kiss and moves downwards, trailing wet kisses down Neil’s torso, leaving behind dark marks everywhere he lingers. Neil is a responsive mess under him, panting and moaning and generally being a nuisance. 

By the time Andrew makes it down to his cock, Neil is squirming and flushed bright red. Andrew blows cool air over Neil’s erection, relishing Neil’s gasp. 

“Andrew, Christ,” Neil says, just before Andrew swallows him down. Neil almost wails, biting his lip just in time to catch the noise before it escapes. Andrew bobs his head up and down, establishing enough of a rhythm that Neil is almost panting in time. One of Neil’s hands drops to Andrew’s hair, combing through it restlessly, careful not to tug or push. Andrew grabs one of Neil’s well-muscled thighs and hooks it over his shoulder, giving him access to Neil’s sculpted ass. 

“You know,” Andrew says, pulling off Neil’s dick with a disturbingly hot sound, “I didn’t miss your personality at all.” 

“Yeah?” Neil prompts, almost incoherent.

“Yeah. But this?” Andrew says, before grabbing a handful of Neil’s ass and squeezing hard, “This I missed.” Neil barks a sharp laugh. Andrew squeezes some lube onto his fingers, warming it up a bit before tracing up the cleft of Neil’s ass, teasing him a bit before continuing the blowjob. One finger doesn’t present any real difficulty, so Andrew works him up to two and then three, scissoring and pumping until he finds the-

“Jesus fucking Christ, Andrew, oh god, oh shit,” Neil says, rearing off the bed a little bit. Andrew bears down a little harder, rubbing that spot until Neil is almost vibrating on the bed. “Andrew, stop, oh god, stop, I’m gonna come,” he begs, and Andrew obliges, withdrawing. “Oh, shit, oh god you have to get inside of me, I’m going to die here.” 

“Patience,” Andrew says, slicking up his cock. 

“Patience my ass, it’s been years,” Neil says. 

“I fucked you literally four months ago,” Andrew says, pushing Neil’s legs back and lining himself up. 

“You know what I mean,” Neil says, voice abruptly very serious. Andrew looks down at him, making eye contact. 

“Yeah, I do,” Andrew says, before pushing slowly, inexorably in. Neil’s eyes fall shut as he arches into it. Andrew thinks this is probably how he dies. It’s been a very long time since he’s fucked anyone without a condom, and he forgot how sex felt without that thin barrier, forgot how much sensation he was dulling. He seats himself fully and holds perfectly still. Neil’s hands move to Andrew’s hair, tugging him down until his forehead is resting against Neil’s shoulder. 

“You can move when you want,” Neil says after a long moment. 

“Noted,” Andrew grits out. He doesn’t move. 

“Andrew?” Neil asks. 

“Give me a second, so I don’t completely embarass myself here,” Andrew says, and Neil laughs gently, running his hands over Andrew’s back in soothing patterns. Finally Andrew gets a hold of himself and pulls out a bit before pushing back in. 

“Oh fuck yes,” Neil bites out. After that, it’s a blur of motion and sweat and bitten off curses as they move together. Andrew knows he’s not going to last long, not like this. Neil seems to be in the same boat, his breath coming out in hitches the way it always does when he’s close. Andrew reaches a hand between them and takes Neil in hand, stroking him on the offbeat of their rhythm, and Neil loses his mind, going almost boneless and moaning every time Andrew pistons in. 

“Neil,” Andrew bites out, “I’m close.” 

“Me too,” Neil says, “come on, come with me, Andrew, come on, I love you, fuck,” and Andrew is lost, twisting his hand on the upstroke in the way that always drives Neil crazy, before coming with a bitten off growl, pulling out and spilling on Neil’s stomach. Neil follows right after, tensing his entire body and then going limp. Andrew collapses right next to him on the bedspread, letting the aftershocks roll through him.

They’re quiet for a few moments as they recover. Andrew tosses an arm over Neil to keep him close, and Neil puts one hand on his arm to hold him there. They should probably clean up, but Neil seems to be okay without the clean up and Andrew decides they can just move straight to the shower in a few. It’s very peaceful. 

“I mean it,” Neil says, breaking the silence. Andrew makes a questioning noise. “I love you. I should have said it back when you did, but I was so shocked that you felt that way and I had fucked things up so badly with my first plan that I figured I had to fix it first, so I could prove how I felt, instead of saying something and making it worse.” 

“What was your first plan, try to fuck me into loving you again?” Andrew asks jokingly. Neil stays very quiet. “Oh Christ, Neil.” 

“Mistakes were made,” Neil admits. Andrew smiles. 

“That reminds me,” Andrew says, reaching over the edge of the bed to grab his pants. He pulls out a small box from the pocket. “This is for you.” 

“Do I finally get a key?” Neil asks, taking the box. “Not that I don’t enjoy picking your lock, but your neighbors were starting to give me weird looks.” 

“Open it and see,” Andrew says. Neil opens the box. 

“Oh,” he breathes. 

“It’s not a key because I’m moving out of this apartment soon. I’m going to buy a house and put down roots here. I want you to do that with me,” Andrew says, something terrified seizing his heart. He suddenly doubts that this was the right move, thinks that this was too fast for both of them, but then Neil takes the ring out of the box and puts it on his ring finger. A smile spreads across his face. 

“I was gonna wait two months and then propose, but of course you’re already on the same page as me,” Neil says. 

“Is that a yes?” Andrew asks, because he’s suddenly desperate to hear the answer, desperate to hear that Neil really will be staying, with him and near him and for him. 

“Yes Andrew, yes of course, I’ll marry you. When are we getting this done?” Neil asks, smiling so hard Andrew thinks his cheeks might cramp. 

“Whenever we can get everyone together,” Andrew says. “Maybe after we get the house.” Neil nods, still staring at the ring on his finger. 

“Andrew, did we finally get this right?” Neil asks, and Andrew, holding his new fiancé and teammate’s hand, is inclined to agree.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! if this was satisfying or unsatisfying I wanna know! Your comments keep me alive and writing!


End file.
